


Subject: Decision

by Caiti (Caitriona_3)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Family, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Trope Bingo Round 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 14:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4352471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caitriona_3/pseuds/Caiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of their first five-year mission, Spock has a decision to make.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Subject: Decision

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for LJ's [Hurt/Comfort Bingo](http://hc-bingo.livejournal.com/) square - "Learning to Be Loved"  
> Fill for DW's [Trope Bingo](http://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) square - "Chosen Family"  
> 

_“I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together, of a friendship that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realize.” Spock (Prime)_

Spock meditated on the words spoken by his counterpart at their first meeting eight years ago. The time which elapsed between that fateful meeting and the decision he would render in the morning had proved the second half of his counterpart’s statement to be quite the understated truth. His bond with Jim Kirk did indeed define him in many ways – as did the bonds he shared with the other members of the command crew. 

Bonds he never expected to form.

The Enterprise would return to Spacedock soon and each of the crew would be required to make a choice – sign up for a second five year mission or go their separate ways. All of them had received various offers – both inside and outside of Starfleet – but none of them, to his knowledge, had made a decision as of yet.

None save the captain.

Captain James T. Kirk delivered his decision to the Admiralty during alpha shift. “If my crew comes back, then so do I,” Kirk informed them. “If they choose to move on to something else, then I will take the teaching position at the Academy.” His decision would depend on the choices of the others. There lay the crux of the matter. Stay or go – what decision would be best, not only for himself but for the others?

He turned his focus inward, considering the men and women and the ship they had called home for so long.

_“The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life.” Richard Bach_

“Check.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow at the move. “You have endangered your king, Captain,” he pointed out even as he reached to make his next move. “A most unorthodox strategy. Check.”

“We each have our own style, Mr. Spock,” Kirk replied, a hint of a carefree grin turning up the corners of his lips. 

The two of them discovered a shared interest in chess during the first year of their mission. From then on, it became common for the crew to find them seated around a chessboard in various recreational areas of the ship – the mess hall, the observation deck, and even the gym. Other games took place in private quarters and offices, but after an initial reluctance, Spock had conceded to Kirk’s insistence that the crew needed to see their officers relaxing. Spock found the hypothesis a bit illogical in the beginning, but observation proved his captain correct. The stress level of the crew did decrease after each game, particularly as neither officer minded spectators. A small group of the crew even requested lessons.

The curious makeup of the psychology of non-Vulcans continued to intrigue him.

Spock considered the layout of the pieces. “Your style continues to be quite haphazard.”

Light laughter spilled from Kirk even as the captain shifted another piece. “Probably the only reason I can keep you on your toes,” Kirk noted.

“Interesting choice of words, Captain, as I am currently seated and unlikely to rise to my toes,” Spock pointed out. A hint of amusement flickered within, belying the serious tone of his voice. 

Kirk smiled as a nearby group of ensigns chuckled. “Mr. Spock, I do believe you just made a joke,” the captain pointed out, widening his eyes in mock concern. “Should we call for Bones?” Spock gave him a flat stare and Kirk began laughing once more. “All right, all right.” The captain held his hands up in surrender. “Bad joke.”

“Indeed.” Spock moved his bishop.

Mischief stole into Kirk’s gaze. “Checkmate in four,” he announced with zeal.

“That is most unlikely, Captain,” he replied as his eyes scanned the board.

Kirk straightened, catching the hidden challenge in his friend’s voice. “Watch me.”

Spock sat back, inwardly content at his friend’s reaction though his outward response consisted of a raised eyebrow and a simple comment. “I could hardly do otherwise, Captain.”

_“Family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” David Ogden Stiers_

“You must leave me here.”

McCoy dug through his medical supplies without bothering to look up. “Shut up, Spock.” 

Spock lifted an eyebrow at the offhand manner of the rejoinder. “Doctor,” he began again, “It would be more logical for you to-.”

“I said, ‘shut up, Spock,’” McCoy growled as he lifted his head and focused on the Vulcan. A blend of emotions glittered in that direct gaze – some mix of what Spock took to be exasperation directed towards Spock himself, anger at their attackers, and a general annoyance with the universe at large. “You’re injured and I’m damn well not gallivanting off and leaving you here on your own. So just shut up.”

“The captain-.”

“Jim had a whole damn ship to worry about,” McCoy interrupted him once more. “He’ll be back.”

Spock tilted his head. “Doctor, will you cease interrupting me?”

“You plan to say anything sensible?” McCoy demanded. “Or are you going to keep spouting nonsense?”

“The needs of the many-.”

“I hate that saying,” the doctor muttered.

“Why?” Spock inquired, curiosity coloring his tone. “It is a logical argument.”

“For a computer,” McCoy shot back. Then he sighed as he began to clean out the worst of Spock’s wounds. “Spock – if I leave you here, injured and untreated, the risk of your death goes up – substantially.” The Vulcan opened his mouth only to snap it closed at another glare from the doctor. “Would you stop talking and trying to be so damn noble and self-sacrificing for a minute? Do me a favor and _think_ – think about the reaction and feelings – yes, _feelings_ of the crew!” 

Spock blinked and hesitated as images flickered in his mind – images of his fellow crewmembers after the loss of Vulcan and their fellow cadets, Jim’s expression at the death of Admiral Pike, and the losses among the crew thus far in their mission. His shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch at the impact of those images.

“Exactly.” McCoy’s tone grew soft. “Sometimes we have no choice, we have to think about the greatest loss or gain of life, but right now the only danger is to me. I have as much right to choose my fate as you do Spock – and I’m not leaving you behind.” A hint of his dry humor returned. “Now – shut up, Spock. Be damned if I’m going to have to explain to Jim why I left you bleeding and untreated when he shows up. Not to mention I’ll probably be busy with him thanks to whatever madcap rescue plan he’s invented!” 

_“To us, family means putting your arms around each other and being there.” Barbara Bush_

The anniversary never failed to creep up on him.

Somehow, despite his attention to detail and his prodigious memory, he managed to overlook the anniversary of the destruction of Vulcan – and his mother’s death. Each year his friends – and yes, he could acknowledge them as such in the privacy of his own mind – would watch and wait for the remembrance to strike him before they would become quite overbearing in their attention. (He chose to ignore his own participation in the same sort of occurrence for the others.)

Each of them would find their own way to express their support or share his day. Lieutenant Sulu would discuss botany while Ensign Chekov asked questions about stellar cartography and theoretical physics. Lieutenant Commander Scott gave a running commentary on new designs he planned for the engines which often led Spock to consider the potential truth behind rumors regarding the man’s mental instability. (He rejected these, of course, and yet…) Doctor McCoy engaged him in disputes over various debates, but at a greater frequency than usual as if the doctor used these discussions as a way to check on Spock’s well-being.

Nyota and Jim were _there_ , quiet, but present as he moved through the day.

“I have no desire to forget her,” he murmured as he sat next to Nyota in the observation deck.

“I know,” Uhura replied, letting her shoulder lean into his. Then she reached out for a small package at her side. “This is for you. I don’t know where or how Kirk got it – and I don’t want to know – but we think… We hope it will help.”

“Jim?” Although his use of his friend’s name remained rare, it would have been illogical to conceal such from Nyota. They had progressed beyond that point long ago. It might be illogical, but if the two people he trusted most agreed this would help, then he was willing to attempt it, particularly given the somewhat antagonistic relationship between the two of them. (Jim called it teasing while Nyota insisted she was working to ‘contain’ Kirk. McCoy laughed at both of them and started referring to them as the ‘twins’. Spock watched them all with a cool look and hidden affection.) He peeled back the paper to reveal the back of a frame. He turned it over. 

Amanda Grayson’s joy radiated through her smile.

“Mother.”

Spock touched his fingers to the image of his mother’s face. He could think of no other words and thus remained silent, feeling the warmth at his side as Nyota waited with him, watching the stars drift past in the quiet.

And he…he felt comforted.

_“Some of the most important conversations I've ever had occurred at my family's dinner table.” Bob Ehrlich_

“Aye, sir,” Scotty nodded to the captain as he gestured towards the hologram hovering above the table. “We can reroute a few of the minor systems around the damage and you’ll never know it’s there, but if we let it stay too long it’ll start draining power from other parts of the ship. We need a good couple of days somewhere to do the right fix. Truth, sir, my kids could use the same thing – a little time to fix themselves.” He shook his head before picking up his sandwich and taking a large bite. 

The command crew had gathered in the briefing room for a routine meeting, but it evolved – as per their usual luck – into a drawn out discussion of various needs shared by ship and crew alike, running into their mealtime. The captain arranged for lunch to be brought to them instead of pausing the meeting. 

Spock watched as each person gave their information, details and incidents they witnessed or heard about over the past few weeks. Most of the events ended to be small, minor irritants even to the most volatile of the crew, but previous research indicated that such minor irritants would likely flare into larger problems if they did not make changes now. Worse yet, to the Vulcan’s mind, the potential for error and incomplete work grew greater as the time stretched out.

Even Mr. Scott – an almost inexhaustible human being when it came to engineering – showed signs of the ship-wide fatigue.

“Captain,” Spock spoke up after a moment’s thought. “Given the needs of both the ship and the crew, it would be only logical to consider shore leave. There are three locations within a reasonable distance from our current position to allow this time and not take us too far away from our assignment.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled, relief washing through his eyes. “Scotty, Spock, determine which of the three would be best for the ship and we’ll head that way.”

“Yes, Captain,” Spock nodded, mind already parsing the information he possessed about their potential shore leave destinations. 

Scotty just waved his agreement, his mouth to full to talk.

_“It all comes down to family.” Multiple_

Spock brought himself out of the meditation. He rose to his feet and made his way over to the computer console. Each move flowed into the other, calm and collected and without haste. His spirit rested easy within as he prepared to render his decision – the only decision he could render with the memories so clear in his mind’s eye. “Computer, relay message to Starfleet Command.”

“Affirmative, Commander. Subject of message?’

“Subject: Decision.”


End file.
